Wine Competition Notes from the Sommelier’s Choice Awards

I’ve judged various wine competitions over the last 35 years. The most recent was for the Sommelier’s Choice Awards near Chicago. On game day I was teamed up with two local industry professionals. Team 9, as we were dubbed, would taste through seven flights of wines over the course of the day, using a 100-point system to award bronze, silver, gold, and double gold medals to deserving wines.

The criteria for scoring included how well a wine would potentially pair with food, its typicity, quality, and value. The protocol for reviewing the wines required the three of us to first smell and taste a wine, and then use our laptops to input scores into proprietary software developed and owned by the competition. Next, we’d read our notes and scores to each other, followed by some quick back and forth discussion. After the first few wines, we were almost always in the same range as far as our scores. For the record, there was no trying to push anyone’s scores on the others. As I told my teammates, there would be no hills to die on that day.

Why wine competitions?

All of which begs the question, why do wineries submit wines to competitions? If anything, winning a medal can be used to market a wine. I can’t count the number of times I’ve seen small shiny gold medal decals on wine labels along with numeric scores. But do competitions help to sell wine? The answer is sometimes, especially in a retail setting when a consumer could be faced with a dozen Chardonnays at the same price point. Then, seeing a gold medal on a label might help to make a decision. But does winning a medal help a winery sell a wine on premise to a sommelier? Usually not. Sommeliers rarely care about medals or scores for a simple reason. They base purchases for their wine list on their own palate and not someone else’s. Frankly, that’s how it should be.

Are competitions still relevant? As my Mom used to say, it takes all types to fill up the freeways. Meaning there is a huge range of wines produced in terms of quality, style, and price. I think competitions still work for brands whose wines lie squarely in some of the most competitive categories and price points. Ditto that for box wines, canned wines, and even Tetra-packs. That said, I don’t think competitions are for wines from small artisanal domains. Here the importer is often the driving force behind marketing and selling the wines. Exhibit A, Kermit Lynch, who excels at both.

Otherwise, how about the scores. Are they accurate? I’ll be up front by saying I’m categorically against using scores, especially the 100-point system. Numbers presuppose a precision in wine that simply does not exist. However, in the context of a competition, scores and medals for wines are like snapshots. They are the product of a professional taster assessing a wine (or spirit, beer, sake, etc.) in the moment. Would an entry be judged differently by a different panel on another day? Without a doubt, yes. That’s how much context is part of any wine experience. However, the results should also be close if the judges involved are experienced.

How I taste during a wine competition

My methodology for tasting at a competition is an abbreviated form of my usual routine. I’m doing the usual sight/nose/palate sequence. However, the process is condensed due to time constraints, and the fact that you could be asked to taste over 100 wines on a given day. Is tasting that many wines tough on your palate? And does palate fatigue enter the picture? The answer is yes, it can, but with a caveat—at least for me. I base over 75% of my assessment of a wine on the nose. When I actually taste it, I’m confirming what I’ve already smelled and then evaluating the structural elements—the levels of acidity, alcohol, phenolic bitterness, and tannin. Otherwise, here is a quick breakdown of how I taste at a competition.

Sight: Armed with the info about a wine’s grape variety, vintage, and appellation, I have a good idea of what it should look like based on previous experience. Which means if a white wine is deep in color, I’m suspecting it’s either old, been aged in oak for a long time, has botrytis, or is otherwise oxidized. As for red wines, if one is light in color, I suspect it’s made from overcropped fruit, from a poor vintage, or simply a lousy wine. Likewise, if it’s a Pinot Noir that should be lighter in color but looks like Syrah, I’m thinking the wine could be from a warm/hot vintage or something else could have been blended in. Smelling the wine will confirm any of these assumptions in seconds, or provide a surprise—which is usually on the tragic side. 

Nose: As I mentioned, I do most of the work on the nose. First, I check to make sure the wine doesn’t have a fault like corkiness, excess volatile acidity (VA), Brett (Brettanomyces), or sulfur compounds (thiol esters and H2S). Some wines never get past this faults check point. Then the DIPM rule is in effect (don’t put in mouth).

After checking the hygiene of the wine, I do a quick assessment of the alcohol level and how much oak was used, if any. From there, it’s a quick run through of noting the fruit, fruit condition, non-fruit, and earth/mineral in the wine. I take quick notes, writing a condensed version of what I’m smelling.

Palate: Again, when I taste a wine I’m confirming what I’ve already smelled and evaluating the structure. What I typically find is that the fruit, or at least some aspect of it, gets tarter on the palate compared to the nose, especially in red wines. Also, the earth/mineral and oak are sometimes stronger on the palate.

As for the structure, I retaste the wine one or more times, keeping it in my mouth for at least five seconds before spitting it out. That gives me a clear snapshot of how much alcohol and acidity are in any wine. The same for phenolic bitterness for white wines based on semi-aromatic and aromatic grapes, and tannin for red wines. I should also note that I have a good idea of structural levels beforehand through the depth of color in the wine and noting the ripeness level of the fruit.

Finally, I finish up the palate by making a note about the texture. Regardless of what kind of wine I’m tasting, texture is the mark of the winemaker’s skill. In a white wine, the texture has to do with yields, fining, and filtration. With red wine, add tannin management. Skilled winemakers are good at texture. Their wines are seamless and polished on the palate. And yes, polished red wines are—for a lack of a better word—smooth.

One other note. Judges are given general information about the category of wines in a flight to be tasted. For example, Bordeaux varieties over $25 retail. For the Sommelier’s Choice Awards, we were given info about each wine’s vintage, the grape or blend, and the appellation/region of production. Now to competition day and the individual flights of wines.

Flight I: Brazilian sparkling wines

I’ve been to Bento Gonzales, the appellation for all but one of the wines in the first flight. It’s a hot and humid sub-tropical climate, really one of the last places on earth you’d peg for a major wine region. Many producers there make tank method and classic method sparkling wines using a wide range of grapes; from the Champagne trio of Chardonnay, Pinot Noir, and Meunier, to the Glera grape of Prosecco, to far more exotic entries like Ugni Blanc.

The quality in the first flight was all over the map. The wines that showed best were either classic method wines made from Champagne grapes, or Prosecco-like tank method wines made from Glera. One was even labeled “Prosecco,” which made me wonder how the consorzio in Italy would feel about that. Otherwise, a few of the other wines left me wondering why anyone would use Ugni Blanc to make sparkling wine.

Flight II: California Chardonnay

As expected, the quality here was better across the board. As for the price/value relationship, not so much. Many of the wines were over $50 with some more than $80. Beyond price, the wines were the usual mix of ripe and tart fruit, lees contact, varying degrees of ML (malolactic fermentation), and oak. Also, the common Chardonnay tropes played out. On one hand, less expensive wines with 100% ML to give them character along with a mix of used and new wood. Then the expensive wines that were ripe/alcoholic and done in 100% new wood. In some cases, the oak dominated a wine and made it one-dimensional; not something you want for $75 a bottle. Regardless, Team 9 gave three of the ten wines gold medals, and several others silver medals.

Flight III: other white grape varieties

I’ll spare you the details only to note that the two best wines of the flight were from South Africa: a pyrazenic, in-your-face Sauvignon Blanc, and a floral, exotic Viognier with just the right amount of new oak. Both were outstanding, delicious, and got gold medals.

Then it was lunch time. Afterwards, we buckled down for the remaining four flights of the day. The first three were red wines.

Flight IV: American Pinot Noir

Most of the wines in the flight were from California with a few from Oregon. What was curious was how ripe and alcoholic the wines from Russian River Valley were—most at 14.5%. Although typical aromas/flavors for the variety were there, some of the wines were so ripe they tasted like Grenache instead of Pinot. Conversely, others were so green and herbal that they also stretched the traditional interpretation of the Pinot grape. One wine in particular—at $80 suggested retail—had a blue tinge to the color with notes of green tea, mint, pine needles, and other savory herbs. A very curious wine—and expensive too.

Flight V: Bordeaux varieties and blends

Most of the wines in the flight were from California, with a few from other states. The quality was a mixed bag, especially for the blends. Some were Merlot or Cabernet Sauvignon blended with Syrah. That combination has long been mastered by the Australians. Those wines tend to show a harmonious melding of Cabernet structure with Shiraz spiciness and fruit. I found nothing like that in our flight. A few times I thought the winery in question should consult with an Aussie winemaker. But two of the Cabernet-Merlot blends were very good and got gold medals. Regardless, tasting 11 Cabernet-based wines was all about tannin. Several of the wines were also expensive—over $75—and didn’t merit the price tag so got docked on value.

Flight VI: Iberian grapes

Here the wines were either Tempranillo or Tempranillo blends. Again, the quality was uneven. Some were surprisingly—no make that shockingly—tannic. One Tempranillo-based wine from the Sierra Foothills was—and will remain until further notice—the single most tannic Tempranillo I’ve ever tasted. Only to be followed by a Tempranillo blended with 15% Petite Sirah that was also brutally tannic. Why in god’s name anyone would blend Petite Sirah into Tempranillo is beyond me. It’s like putting a rottweiler in with a bunch of corgis.

Flight VII: Non-alcoholic wines and teas

The last flight of the day was the most disappointing. I’m going to go on an editorial rant here for a second. I know that non-alcoholic wines have gotten a lot of press lately, what with the movement to drink less. It’s a trend I’ve seen several times before over the course of my career. But here’s the deal. Going back over 35 years, I have never—that is never—tasted a de-alcoholized wine I would consider drinking much less serving to anyone. Non-alcoholic beer, no problem. The technology there works and the result still tastes like beer. However, with wine, the alcohol is such an integral part of the chemistry that when it’s removed, you strip out what makes wine, wine.

Having written that, I’m sure someone will write/call me and say “but wait, I’ve tasted X and it’s actually good.” Sorry, I’ll take a pass because there is a better option than de-alcoholized wine. Which happens to be the final two beverages Team 9 tasted that day in the form of two sparkling teas from Susurrus in Napa. Specifically, the Magnolia Oolong and the Osmanthus Golden Tip. Note these are the only two entries I’m calling out by name. The teas aren’t inexpensive at $38 suggested retail, but they are outstanding and delicious. I’d enjoy them any day. You should try them.  

At the end, I thanked my two Team 9 compadres and wished them well. Then it was time for stronger water in the form of a cocktail to celebrate a good day of work.


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